Caught in the Reality of a Dream
by silverducks
Summary: Sif is finding it particularly hard to concentrate on the Yuletide Feast this year. Something that may be related to a certain dark haired prince.


_So, this was the story I wrote for 2016's Mischief and Mistletoe exchange on AO3 and I've only just realised I never posted it here. So, hope you enjoy reading this short one shot, written for the prompt of a happy Loki/Sif. :-)_

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Over two months had passed now since things had taken such an unexpected turn in her relationship with Loki, and Sif was still surprised by it. Whenever she caught his eye, she still found it hard to suppress her smile. Still struggled to stop the blush from darkening her cheeks when he would walk in to the room. Even clenching her fingers tight seemed to help little when he became close enough to touch, to feel. The forbidden fruit burning into her senses with their delicious temptations.

Tonight it was even harder than usual; the night of the great Yuletide feast. Logs as thick as trees blazed in the hearths, washing the hall in warmth and light, competing with the twinkling fairy lights every colour of the rainbow bridge strung across the walls and beams. Voices fought for attention; cheers and shouts, gossiping tongues and merry songs flooding the room and spilling over into the corridors, so no part of the great palace seemed unable to escape the merriment. Even the sentries, usually so stoic at their posts, swayed slightly to the melodies echoing through the walls, eyes bright and smiles poorly concealed.

It was usually Sif's favourite time of the year, from the adrenaline rush of the hunt earlier that day, to the delicious food and wine and the laughter of her friends, so much more exuberant than at the many other feasts of the Asgardian calendar. It was also the only time of the year she enjoyed wearing dresses, twisting up her dark hair into fancy plaits and ribbons and feeling the smooth warmth of gold and silk over the hard cold brush of steel and cotton. In this hall of sparkling lights, of vivid colours and delectable smells, with sounds and sights so rich and merry it could chase away any melancholy on a rush of the senses, she felt comfortable dressed as the Lady she was. The Lady her mother had always wanted her to be. There was no need for warriors here and for this one night of the year; Sif revelled in the delight of being a Lady of the court of the Realm Eternal.

Tonight, though, it held little of her attention. She may have dressed with the same care as always, even more so, if she was honest with herself. Her smile might be just as bright and her thoughts just as merry, but it was not due to the feast celebrated so boisterously around her.

With a nervous gesture Sif was still not accustomed to, she brushed away imaginary crumbs from her green silk dress and tried not to look at him. Tried not to feel his eyes burning into the low cut back of her dress. The glass of mead she reached for did little to swallow the smile threatening to break free. Throwing her attention at her friends, she tried to listen to Volstagg and Fandral's recount of the hunt that day. Even in this early hour, the simple Yuletide hunt for begilsnipe had become an epic adventure, battling trolls they had stumbled across and magic nymphs who had tried to lure them into the dark depths of the forest. Not even the usual desire to correct their wild tales held any sway for her tonight. Barely a minute after listening to them arguing about who had slain the most trolls, she gave up trying to distract herself. It seemed that despite how much she loved the Yule festival, with merriment and laughter filling the air all around, her attention was elsewhere.

It was reserved for him. The second prince, seated now across the hall from her, dressed in his ceremonial armour beside his mother, the Queen. Perhaps that was why it was so hard tonight; to believe the powerful, handsome prince seated so regally above them all, could be hers. She may have known the two princes since they were children, have played and fought with them for years, but it was at feasts such as this she was reminded of who they really were. Thor and Loki, the two sons of Odin the Allfather, the ruler of the most powerful realm within Yggdrasil. And now that things had changed so between her and Loki…

She turned her head towards him then. Not fully, of course, just enough that she could see him in the corner of her eye, watch him with no one knowing. Except him. She knew the moment he felt her gaze upon him, for his lips curled into a smirk. He tipped his glass imperceptibly towards her, turned to talk to his mother, but he watched her still. Her fingers tightened around her own glass, her skin hot and prickly, an itch that she could not scratch. Perhaps that was why it seemed so hard tonight, when he was seated so far away from her. Had decorum allowed the princes to sit with their friends, he would be beside her. He would spin even greater tales than the Warriors Three with his silver tongue, whilst his fingers would tangle with hers beneath the table, where no one could see.

"No, it was five trolls I killed on my own, was it not, Sif."

The words of her friend broke her thoughts free from Loki for a moment, and she turned her attention towards Volstagg. It took a heartbeat too long for Sif to understand the question and Fandral had already begun speaking.

"No, I helped you kill the fifth one, Volstagg. I…"

"There were not any trolls for you to fight this day!" Sif interrupted, surprised at her own irritability. It was not her friends fault she could not enjoy the same merriment as those around her. They were celebrating after a great hunt and Sif felt as she did on the eve of war, anxious and excited and eager for action. The hunt that usually brought such delight to her now left her restless. A day of riding around the great forest on horseback, searching for a biglesnipe that had continually thwarted them. Sitting in the cold as the snowfall thickened around them and surrounded by her friends, unable to steal a moment away with her real quarry. A quarry that had remained so close yet just out of reach from her all this day. Maybe that was the reason it was so hard to ignore him this night, for her friends were now enjoying the spoils of their victory, joining in the feast with exuberance, but Sif had yet to claim her prize.

Feeling suddenly restless, Sif shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unable to resist stealing a glance at Loki. He still was talking to his mother, but his focus remained on her, she could feel it like a rich red wine beneath her teeth. If he were here now, he would smirk at her outburst, his eyes dancing with mischief and use his silver tongue to tease her lack of patience. In answer, she would ignore him, but her eyes would flash with warning, a promise she would seek her revenge later. And her fingers would tighten around his, squeezing just enough to be painful for a heartbeat. And to all others things would seem as they ever were, the two bickering friends caught in their eternal battle of wills. A battle that had become much sweeter lately, at least the victories, but her friends could not know that. Not for the first time Sif contemplated telling them, wondered what they would say if they knew just how much things had changed between two of their oldest friends. They would laugh, and cheer, delight in the news, Sif was sure. For they had been trying in their different ways to make a match between her and Loki for years. But there were other reasons than just her friends for keeping the secret. Reasons she could not untangle even in her own mind. It was too soon, too much of a change and Sif, who usually had so little patience, wanted time now to befriend her. And perhaps it had, for it was with confusion not suspicion that her friends regarded her now.

"No, Sif. We mean at the fight with the trolls in Nidavellir. Remember that last day when we found where the trolls were camped and…"

Sif had stopped listening. Nidavellir. The land of the Dwarves. The land where everything had changed for her, for Loki and whatever this was between them. Too much rich Dwarven wine, so different to that of the Aesir, had led Loki into her bed and into her heart. No. He had always been in her heart, she had just never realised how deeply he had buried himself there. Not until that night. When dreams she did not even realise were so strong within her bones became reality. A reality that was still so new and exciting for her, especially tonight. A night that held so much promise, so much sweet anticipation. Maybe that was why it had become so hard tonight. The delicious agony of waiting, of longing for a moment they could steal away together. When she could taste the sweet, intoxicating wine upon his lips, feel the twist of his fingers in her hair.

For now though, dreams and memories would have to take their place. So she did try to listen to her friend's tales of their adventures across the nine realms as they grew ever grander, she did try to enjoy the rich, delicious food laid out before her. She somehow managed to hide her smiles with well timed laughter at her friends exploits as her thoughts continued in their reminiscing. Somehow, she even managed to not openly stare at the second prince, to hold her ground and remain at her seat. But she could not quite stop herself from watching him, from the corner of her eye. Watching him watching her.

For neither of them were at all accustomed to this new change between them.


End file.
